


you took my hand and made me warm again

by the_speed_reader



Category: Descendants (2015)
Genre: Child Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 05:45:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4510098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_speed_reader/pseuds/the_speed_reader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos is eight years old when he first catches glimpse of the son of Jafar. He doesn't know it yet, but this is the first time he falls in love. </p><p>(Jay/Carlos. One-shot. Really, really long one-shot.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	you took my hand and made me warm again

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this at eleven o'clock last night, and after many hours of threatening to throw my laptop against the wall, it is finally finished. My longest one-shot, and it's of two characters in a disney channel movie. Shoot me now. 
> 
> Slightly AU. Slight. I sort of mention the mission that the descendant's parents send them on, but not really. It's not a high point in this story. 
> 
> Enjoy.

“ _True love is usually the most inconvenient kind_.” ― Kiera Cass

Carlos is eight years old when he first catches glimpse of the son of Jafar, but it isn’t for more than a few precious moments; his mother is busy, flitting around the second-hand store with that illusion of a careless air around her, and he takes that moment to steal away like the child he is.

He’s crawling through the trinkets, eyeing the shiny ones that he knows his mother will never let him have, when he trips over one of the blanketed sacks near his feet, his lack of balance comes into play. His arm hits the ground with a sickening crunch and he bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, in order to keep the sound of his cry from echoing around the store.

Even at his young age, he knows better than to draw attention to himself; as Mother always said, _children should be seen, but never heard – or better yet, never seen at all._

Carlos twists his wrist as he struggles to pull himself upward, but then the soft sound of boots walking towards him reaches his ears. He panics, fear spiraling up his spine as he struggles to push himself onto his feet, but his foot is caught in something and his arm hurts far more than it should and _oh god, mother is going to punish him like she had before, again and again and again–_

But instead of the sickening familiar face of his mother, his gaze shoots up to meet a pair of dark, warm eyes. It’s a boy, maybe a few years older than him or so, who stares back at him. The other boy is dressed simply in a sleeveless vest and a pair of loose pants, but his attire clearly labels him of a higher class than Carlos is.

The other boy’s gaze is full of curiosity, but it switches to worry when his eyes flicker down to Carlos’ wrist, which is quickly turning a nasty shade of blue and black. Carlos must look desperate beyond belief, because the other boy reaches down; Carlos almost recoils at the touch – every ounce of human contact that he’d had hadn’t ever been _kind_ , but this boy’s touch is soft. He reaches around Carlos’ other arm and pulls him up out of the packaging he’d gotten himself tangled up in with a surprisingly strong grip.

Carlos cradles his arm to his chest, tucking it underneath his fur coat. He only looks down for a moment to make sure his arm is secure, but when he looks up, the other boy is gone, and his mother’s voice is ringing across the store, calling his name in that sharp, demanding tone of hers. He quickly stumbles towards her voice, making quick work of his not yet graceful feet; when he comes into her view, she merely looks down at him with scorn, bringing her hand upward against the back of his head. Carlos winces.

“Don’t wander,” she warns him, turning so her foot is pressing down on top of his bare toes. He forces himself to not look away. She regards him carelessly, and with the flick of her wrist, motions him to take the bags that she has brought from the man behind the counter – a sharp, beady-eyed man who looks at him with a scowl.

Carlos grasps the bags with his good arm, trying to stop himself from displaying his injury as he does so. As he slips into the waiting car beside his mother, something shiny catches his eye; he jerks his gaze up to the rooftops, and sees that boy there – the one from the store, the one who had helped him. He’s perched on the edge of the overhanging just above the door of the shop, dangling his boot-clad feet, watching them with those eyes of his. His dark eyes catch Carlos’, and Carlos feels something hitch in his chest as the other boy brings a finger to his lips, eyes shining with an emotion that he could not see from this distance.

Curiosity bubbles deep within him, and he’s unable to stop the question from slipping from his lips. “Mother? Who is that boy up there?”

His mother looks up from where she is admiring her new coats, her enjoyed look quickly turning into a scowl as she catches glimpse of the boy that had helped Carlos in the store. The car turns the corner then, shielding the boy from view, but his mother’s disgusted look remains. She scoffs. “That’s Jafar’s son, and my dear boy,” she says the term of endearment with sickening ooze, and he fights back the shivers going down his spine. “That little urchin is a dirty little thief. You would be wise to stay away from him. Mark my words, one of these days that boy is going to get himself killed for taking something that he should _not_ have taken.”

These last words are said with utmost scorn, but Carlos cannot help but ask, “But what’s his _name_?”

His mother’s gaze turns to one of blunt uncaring as she shifts her focus down to her nails. For a moment, he thinks she’s not going to answer, and a coil of disappointment begins to form in his middle. But then she speaks: “I believe that Jafar named his little rugrat _Jay_.”

She says the boy’s name with such scorn, but Carlos pays no attention. He rolls the boy’s name between his lips, never speaking aloud of course and keeping his face turned away from his mother’s view, but it sends a rush of _something_ through his belly.

And when he’s finally home, alone in his room that is the closet in the back of the house, he cradles his arm to his chest, finally daring to say the captivating boy’s name aloud, and it feels _exhilarating_.

“ _Jay_.”

This is how it begins.

//

Eventually, the memory of that day at the store fades.

The vision of the boy, however, does not.

//

It takes some time, but Carlos grows into his skin and bones. He’s lithe and small, just enough for people to underestimate him, but not enough for him to be picked out as an easy target. When he’s twelve, he meets the daughter of Captain Hook; she’s brave and wonderful and all those things that he wishes he could be, but never is.

She teaches him to turn his clumsiness into gracefulness, how to balance on the poles that stretch across town and how to keep his footing on the smallest of ledges. She teaches him how to slip through windows without a sound, and of course, coaches him in the art of lock picking; she’s funny and marvelous and without a doubt, and in another world, he knows that he could fall in love with her. But she’s nearly out of her teens and has a heart as black as her father’s, and he holds no feelings for her other than admiration, so they become fast friends instead – and, not long after they meet, partners in crime.

Her name is Alecto, and she is his first friend; she lives up to her namesake, walking through the island like it is her own with a sense of personal fury and making it her mission to swipe something from every person in town. She is a thief, and his mother loathes thieves. But Carlos cannot bring himself to care, because she is the only one in the world who actually cares about him.

But then she disappears in the dead of night one summer when he’s fourteen, and he suspects that her father has something to do with it. But there are no clues, and no one on the island cares; despite the fact that she is a child of a major villain, no one cares about a thief.

Alecto taught him everything he knows, and a week after her disappearance, he cries like he hasn’t in years. He sobs, actually, in an alley not far from his house. He knows that if he comes home like this, with tear stains on his cheeks, his mother would add yet another scar to his skin; she believes that crying is a sign of deep weakness, and often instills in him the belief that no one should ever cry. And he’d been staying away from his house as much as possible lately, because she was plotting again; he’d listened in one of her late night meetings with the Evil Queen and Maleficent, and knows that they’re planning (yet again) to get off the island. Their plans have always failed, but he knows that his mother has never lost hope for her to get her hands on those dammed Dalmatians.

Carlos had met Evie, the Evil Queen’s daughter, and she had seemed to be the spitting image of her mother – always poised and confident, and Carlos suspected that she carried a poison apple or two in her pockets.

But Mal, Maleficient’s daughter, was another story. Carlos had never met the purple-haired girl in person, but he was well aware of her reputation. She and another boy, one whose name he didn’t know, were often the talk of the town with their habits of stealing the most precious things they could get their hands on. And they were good at it – very, very good.

His mother had often warned him to stay away from Mal, but she had no qualms about Evie. In fact, she had rather given him hints about how pretty the other girl was: “ _Not as pretty as me, of course_ ,” she had ruefully laughed, “ _but pretty enough_!” He was almost positive that his mother hopes he is going to end up with Evie one day, but Evie had only ever shown an interest in princes, and Carlos – well, Carlos was a different story. He’d never had any interest in girls _at all_ , something that he knew was odd, but had never really given a second thought to.

The sound of the scuffle of a boot brings him out of his thoughts and he flinches, twisting his hand up to wipe the tears off. If anyone caught him crying here and told his mother…oh, the consequences would _not_ be good. He ducks his head into his coat, wishing that the other person would simply pass by, but his luck had never been that good. The footsteps get closer and he braces himself for anything – a punch to the cheek, a grab for the trinkets in his pocket – but instead, a shadow blocks his view of the narrow sunlight coming through the cracks as someone crouches before him.

Carlos takes a chance, looking up – and goes deadly still, staring at the boy before him. The other boy was looking at him, not with pity but with curiosity, and Carlos’ breath hitches.

It’s the boy – the boy from so long ago, the one who had helped him in Jafar’s shop. Carlos watches as the boy tilts his head, sending him a slight smile. He can still hear his mother’s voice echoing with the boy’s name: _Jay_.

“Hey,” the boy says, and Carlos sweeps his gaze over the boy’s form. This boy was no longer the little boy that had been seen in the shop; this boy was quite well on his way to becoming a man, with arms that had muscles that curved in at just the right places and long, dark hair that was half-hidden underneath a red cap. The son of Jafar was dressed in a leather jacket, sleeveless _of course_ , with coarse fabric of the boy’s pants brushing against Carlos’ own clothed leg. Carlos jerks his gaze upward to the boy’s waiting eyes – chocolate colored and warm, just like he remembered. But there was no longer than waiting innocence like there had been before; this time, there was a layer of hardness that can only be seen in the eyes of a child who grew up on the Isle of the Lost.

The boy snaps his fingers, and Carlos jerks backwards, scrambling for purchase against the brick on the wall behind him and on the stones beneath his feet. The boy sends him a curious look, but straightens up, holding a hand outward to Carlos. Carlos takes it carefully, and the boy’s hand feels warm against his.

The boy pulls his hand away and Carlos ignores the flicker of disappointment that rushes through him. He’s distracted for a moment, so when he meets the boy’s eyes again, there’s a question present on his features.

Carlos shakes his head. “I’m sorry, what?”

The boy laughs, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip. “You’re Cruella’s son, right? The De Vil boy?”

Carlos shakes his head numbly. “Carlos,” he offers his name, but says nothing else.

The boy raises his eyebrows. “Well, _Carlos_ ,” he teases, putting emphasis on the name, “I’m Jay – Jafar’s kid.”

“I know,” Carlos says hurriedly, and feels heat spreading on his cheeks at the boy’s – _Jay’s_ – inquisitive look. “We met once before – that is, long ago. I was maybe, eight? In your father’s shop.” He stumbles over the words, inwardly smacking himself as every syllable that comes out of his mouth seems clumsy – just as clumsy as he had been all those years ago, before Alecto. _Alecto_. Carlos feels sadness begin to bubble up again as he remembers the reason he had been in his alley in the first place, but he pushes it down. He would not _cry_ in front of Jay. He would _not_. Carlos blows a breath from his lips, his fingers playing with the fringe on his jacket. “I’m gonna shut up now.”

Jay smiles then – a full smile, not one of those half-hearted ones that Carlos had only ever seen on the island. The smile seems to go all the way up to Jay’s ears and behind his eyes, sending coils of _something_ through Carlos’ middle. “It’s alright,” he smirks. “You’re cute.”

 _Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t blush_ , he tells himself, but he can feel the tips of his ears go hot. Carlos opens his mouth to say more – something, anything to keep talking to the other boy, but another voice echoes through the air: “Jay! C’mon you jackass, I got stuff to do!”

Carlos recognizes that voice; it’s Mal - she sounds just like her mother - but he has no time to process this information before Jay’s clapping a hand down on his shoulder. “I gotta go – you know how girls are. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Jay winks at him, but Carlos just nods weakly, because _no, he does not know how girls are_. The other boy sends him one last wave goodbye before he’s jumping upward, his boot-clad foot catching one of the loose bricks on the side of the alley. Jay pulls himself upward, onto the roof without looking back, and he disappears out of Carlos’ view.

Carlos just simply stares at the spot where Jay had disappeared, an odd feeling curling in his chest.

He lingers in an alley for a few moments longer, but not for long; the sun is quickly fading away as day turns to night, and Carlos hurries home with a spring in his step and a new lightness in his chest. And when he’s curled up on his mattress, the sounds of his mother and the other women squabbling out in the main room, his mind is running with a thousand different scenarios that he knows would never happen.

Just like that night long ago, he thinks of the boy with chocolate eyes; but so unlike before, he doesn’t know what it _means_.

Carlos knows that on the Isle of the Lost, boys can like boys and girls can like girls, but his mother isn’t like that. His mother is old fashioned, one of the few that are left on the island; he doesn’t know how it is on Auradon, but here, his mother would skin his hide and leave him for dead if he ever brought a boy home.

He thinks, for a moment, that the odd feeling curling inside him is simply excitement at the idea of meeting a new person – a new friend that is, after Alecto.

(But deep, deep down, he knows that he is lying to himself.)

//

Years go by, and he grows a bit more; he adds a few more inches to his frame, but that’s pretty much it. He stays skinny and small, and is still able to slip through windows with a natural ease.

But one thing does change: now, he has _friends_.

A couple weeks after that night in the alley, Jay and Mal had approached him; apparently, they needed someone of his talents to help them. And he had agreed, of course. Mal had eyed him with suspicion, but he had no need to earn _her_ trust. But after they’d pulled the job off – stealing some jewels from one of the more sinister characters that lived on the far side of the island – she had grudgingly accepted him. After that, Carlos joined them in everything they did; stealing and playing and having more _fun_ that he’d ever had in his life. A few days after he turns fifteen, Evie joins their little group; she’s got a talent for flirting, and she uses her weapons of persuasion as a method of distraction while the other three put their heist into play.

But his feelings – well, he doesn’t really know _what_ they are – for Jay still linger beneath the surface, but he does his best to keep them hidden. For the first time in his life, he feels as though he _belongs_ somewhere, and there was no chance in hell he was going to mess that up.

(But sometimes, lying in his bed late at night, he wonders what it’d be like to fall in love with someone. He thinks that he’d like to kiss Jay, and that scares him down to his very core.)

When he’s sixteen years old, the Auradon proclamation happens.

Carlos had been hearing about the prince for months; his mother believes that this boy was the key to getting them off the island, and the other members of that group agreed. And they weren’t the only ones – the island was buzzing with rumors and plots and plans, but none that were practical. The villains were slowly coming alive again, and it _scared_ him, but he didn’t share this fear with anyone – not with Mal or Evie, and definitely not with Jay. He didn’t want them to think he was weak.

But then word comes that the prince has invited the four of them to attend Auradon Prep as a gesture of peace and rehabilitation, and suddenly, Carlos is his mother’s focus once more. She dotes on him in front of the other villains and their children as they speak of their plans, and scolds him in private. She warns him: “Don’t mess this up,” she swears at him, waving that cigarette of hers around. “Follow the plan, or so help me, I was toss your worthless hide off this island.”

The night before they’re scheduled to leave for Auradon, she stabs her cigarette into his palm, as a taste of what would happen if he failed. She’d never done that before, and he _runs_ when she’s not looking.

He thinks about running away completely, about jumping into the waters around the island and trying to swim to safety. Maybe he’d find Alecto, a false echo of a world lost long ago. But he also knows that the magical barriers around the island would prevent him from leaving. And he almost does it anyway, because he’s so desperate to get out of here, to get away from this place, to get away from his mother’s plan, to get away from _everything _–__

Carlos can feel a panic attack bubbling up in his chest and he fights back the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. He turns the corner, arms wrapped close around him with his hands tucked into his jacket, when he hears the sharp bark of a dog. He jerks his head upward at the sound, his body automatically shrinking into the shadows, when he realizes – he’s next to Jafar’s shop.

It’s almost on instinct that he reacts, scrambling up the wall with a clumsiness that he hasn’t felt in _years_. He catches his foot on one brick after the other, finally puling himself onto the roof – next to where he knows Jay’s window is. Carlos tugs at the latch, opening it with ease, and slips inside, closing the window behind him.

It takes his eyes a moment to adjust, but when they do, he sees Jay sitting up on his bed in the corner of the room. Carlos lingers for a moment as the other boy rubs his eyes, one of Jay’s arms propping himself up on the bed.

“Carlos?” Jay asks, his voice raspy from sleep. “What – what’re you doing here?”

Carlos doesn’t answer, instead stepping towards Jay. He wraps his arms around his waist as he gently sits on the foot of the bed, biting his lip. His chest is heaving with the force of the tears he’s holding back, and when he meets Jay’s gaze, the other boy’s features instantly turn into one of concern.

Jay reaches an arm out – he’s not wearing a shirt, something that Carlos will most _definitely_ think about later, but for now, he needs _comfort_ – and Carlos uncurls his arms from around his middle, wrapping one of his hands around Jay’s torso instead and leaving the other one lying limply on the bed. The other boy is warm, a result of the room being hot due to the summer weather. Jay pulls him tighter, one of his hands wrapping around Carlos’ back as Carlos presses his nose into the curve of the other boy’s neck, a quiet, muffled sob slipping from his lips.

“Carlos,” Jay whispers, keeping his voice low. Carlos knows what will happen if Jafar catches them up here; Jafar would tell Cruella, and Carlos would vanish – just like Alecto – before anyone could even think about what had happened. But he brushes that thought out of his mind, instead curling his fingers into the small of Jay’s back. “Carlos, what _happened_?”

He just shakes his head, his body shaking in Jay’s grip. He feels Jay’s other hand tentatively brush against his own, but then the other boy tenses up; Carlos freezes as Jay’s fingers linger over the cigarette burn in the middle of his palm.

For a moment, neither of them moves. But then Jay speaks, his voice low and protective and _dangerous_. “Carlos,” he warns. “ _Who did this to you_?” Carlos shakes his head, refusing, but Jay speaks again. “Look at me,” he orders, and Carlos draws his head back, flicking his eyes up to meet the other boy’s gaze.

What he sees there surprises him; Jay’s gaze is full of anger of the darkest kind, something that Carlos had never seen before on his friend’s – _no, more than a friend, more than a friend_ – features. Jay moves his hand up, cupping the back of Carlos’ neck carefully. “Did Cruella do this?” he asks, and Carlos’ eyes slam shut. He refuses to answer, but the look on his face gives it all away.

Jay’s body is taunt with anger, but he pulls Carlos back towards him. Carlos’ cheek rests on Jay’s shoulder, his eyelashes brushing against the skin there. Jay presses his fingers to the hair on the nape of Carlos’ neck, brushing his thumb there. “It’s alright,” he whispers, and Carlos’ body shudders. “She can’t hurt you here, and tomorrow – tomorrow, we’ll all be gone. We’ll be away from here.”

Carlos jerks his head up, gaze locking with Jay’s. “But I won’t,” he chokes out. “I won’t. You know what they’re planning, and I won’t ever be free of her, and–“ _that’s terrifying, because she’s my mother and she hurts me and aren’t parents supposed to love you?_ “–she’s just going to keep doing this – shit. _Shit_.” The word feels rotten in his mouth; he rarely swears, leaving that more to Mal and Jay, but if there was ever was a time that was appropriate, it was now. “She’s my _mother_ , Jay, aren’t mothers supposed to be _good_ and _nice_ and _kind_?”

Jay removes his hand from Carlos’ back, leaving his skin cold through the fabric, and rubs his fingers over the tip of Carlos’ ear. “I swear to god, I’m gonna kill her,” Jay growls and Carlos flinches, shaking his head and leaning into Jay’s embrace again.

“You can’t do that,” Carlos whispers. “You know you can’t do that.”

There’s a pause for a moment, and Carlos can almost hear the thoughts spiraling around in Jay’s mind as the other boy decides on what to say next. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” Jay finally decides on, and Carlos closes his eyes. After a moment of silence, Jay moves his legs, shifting over on the bed. Carlos leans back, a flash of panic curving up his spine as he thinks, _he’s gonna kick me out. I’m gonna have to go back home, to mother and_ –

But Carlos doesn’t get the chance to panic, because instead of shooing him out of the window, Jay lifts the covers, jerking his head. “C’mon Carlos,” he says quietly, so quietly that Carlos has to strain to hear him. “You can stay here tonight.”

Carlos lifts his gaze, his hazel eyes meeting Jay’s dark ones. After a moment, he nods slowly, his heart thumping harder. Beneath his skin, his pulse skips a beat as he toes his shoes off, bring his legs fully up onto the bed beside Jay. Carlos rests his head on the pillow, lying ramrod straight on his back; there’ s hardly any room in the twin bed, and despite the fact that he’s not touching him, Carlos can feel heat radiating off Jay.

After a few awkward seconds, Carlos can feel Jay’s fingers brush against his, gently putting pressure there. Carlos tilts his head to the side and can see Jay watching him; the boy’s eyes are dark with _something_ , and for a moment, Carlos thinks that Jay might kiss him.

Instead, Jay pulls his fingers away, turning over so Carlos sees his back instead. “Night, Carlos,” Jay says softly.

Carlos lies there, staring at the ceiling, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Okay,” he whispers back. “Goodnight, Jay.” He closes his eyes, ignoring the crushing ball of emotions swirling in his middle.

//

Carlos wakes up with the sun, dazed for a moment as to where he was, before he _remembers_. He jerks up, rolling out of the bed and onto his feet. He stands there for a moment, his feet bare against the wood of Jay’s room, staring at the other boy.

Jay’s still asleep, his eyes firmly closed. His hair is free of that cap he usually wears, instead spreading free along his shoulders. He looks – peaceful. Peace is not an emotion that Carlos had ever seen before on Jay’s features, and it feels unnerving to look at. Carlos hesitates for a moment, taking one last glimpse of the other boy before slipping quietly out the window. He’ll see Jay when the car comes to take them to Auradon, and he needs to do one last thing first.

When he reaches home, his mother is gone; probably plotting with the other villains again in order to make sure their children don’t screw up this mission. Carlos is as quiet as a mouse, because even with her gone, she still could come home any time – and he wanted an easy escape.

He tosses one article of clothing after the other into the bag he kept for emergencies under his bed, along with a toothbrush and other necessary items. He didn’t have much; most of what he has fits into this rather small bag. The only thing he leaves behind are a fur coat or two, and he has no use or want for those – they were something that reminded him of this place, and all he wanted was to be _free_.

Carlos zips the bag close, taking one last look around at the place he had called home for the last sixteen years of his life. It wasn’t much: just a mattress in the corner and a small dresser pressed against the right wall, but he had considered this his safe haven from his mother when she had gotten angry. All he had to do was shove the dresser up against the door, and she couldn’t come in. Of course, when he finally did come out, she was always furious. But for a little while, in that tiny room, he had been safe.

He shakes his head. Now was not the time to look back on his life. Now, it was time to _escape_. Carlos grabs his bag and steps out the door, slamming it behind him with a satisfying sound that echoes along the street. It feels freeing – maybe, in Auradon, this was his fresh start, at least for a little while. This was his turn to finally live his life away from his mother. He makes his way down the cobblestoned street to where he knows the car awaits to take them away; when he turns the corner, all of the villains and their children are already there – including his mother, who is getting a rather nasty glare from Jay.

Carlos shakes his head slightly at the other boy, meeting his gaze. _Don’t do anything stupid_ , he pleads, but the other boy seems to get the message. Jay nods, diverting his gaze towards the ground instead.

Cruella turns her gaze and pins him down, her mouth twisting into a false smile. “Darling!” she calls, reaching for him; instead, he jerks just out of her grip, jumping into the limo. The other kids follow, and he can hear his mother’s astonished voice outside. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him!” she gasps, but the windows of the limo are tinted and he can no longer see her and she can no longer see him.

Evie and Mal take a seat on the far side of the limo, but Jay settles next to him, pressing his thigh against Carlos’. Carlos turns his head to the side, not looking at Jay; instead, he looks at the girls, clapping his hands together. “Well then,” he says. “Let’s go have some fun.”

All throughout the trip there, he doesn’t look at Jay.

//

His room is _huge_ – it’s larger than any room he’s ever been in before. Carlos tosses his bag onto the floor before collapsing onto the bed with a laugh spilling from his lips. From across the room, he sees Jay lean against the door, watching him.

Carlos’ smile fades from his features and he swallows, rolling his head to the side. “Jay–“

“Stop.” Jay’s voice isn’t the carefree one that had been present all throughout their trip to Auradon. It’s the one full of anger and possessiveness – the one that Carlos had heard last night. “We’re talking about this. You can’t avoid this, because I sure as hell aren’t going to forget it.”

Carlos pushes back the lump in his throat, propping himself up by his elbow to look Jay in the eyes. The other boy had moved closer to the bed, leaning up against one of the bedposts. Now, Carlos half-wishes he hadn’t crawled into Jay’s bed last night; it had only cemented his certainty that the other boy didn’t have any feelings for him, and that stings worse that his mother’s palm ever could.

Carlos rolls off the bed and onto his feet, refusing to look towards Jay. He picks up his suitcase off the floor and opens one of the dresser drawers, lifting the first bundle of shirts into the space.

But then Jay’s standing there, somehow having crossed the room without Carlos hearing him. Jay blocks his way to the cabinet, moving his hand towards Carlos’ wrist; Carlos flinches on instinct, recoiling as Jay freezes in his place. He forces himself to take deep breaths, to avoid the panic threatening to spill to the surface.

“How often does she do this to you?” Jay whispers, his hand falling limply by his side. When Carlos stays silent, he asks again: “When did this _start_?”

A rush of anger fills him and in a swift motion, Carlos brings his hand to the hem of his shirt and jerks the fabric up. He moves it over his head before tossing the piece of fabric to the ground. Jay’s gaze turns into one of horror as he takes in Carlos’ torso: it’s a graveyard of bruises and scars, all intertwining and intermixing until you can’t even tell them apart from one another.

“You really want to know?” Carlos asks, voice brimming with a combination of tears and anger and _hurt_. “You don’t want to know. You don’t want to know what it’s like, living with that woman. Waiting day after day after day for her to come home, dreading what mood she’s in. _You don’t know_. And why do you care, anyway?” He’s shouting now, and knows that the other students can probably hear him, but he _doesn’t care_. He’s done caring; he just wants to leave the island behind, to finally have a _life_ on Auradon away from his mother. “You don’t care about me anyways!”

Jay’s throat bobs, and he shakes his head in almost a violent manner. He jerks a finger out, pointing it at Carlos. “Don’t you say that,” he growls. “Don’t you dare say that, I–“ Jay stops for a moment, as if fighting to control something inside of him. “ _Jesus_ , Carlos, why didn’t you just _tell_ me?”

“You would’ve understood?” Carlos challenges, and Jay’s mouth tightens. Carlos gestures to his torso, his voice cracking with emotion. “No. No, you wouldn’t have. No one does.”

“You _stayed_ with her.”

“ _She is my mother_!” Carlos screams, tears now freely dripping down his cheeks. “She is my _mother_. I couldn’t just leave – where would I have gone? I would have been dead in a week if I left, and you _know_ it.”

During this conversation – this argument – they’ve stepped closer to each other. Now, they realize this, and they both still; Jay’s hands are in fists at his side and Carlos is mirroring him, both of them heaving for breath.

Carlos opens his mouth to say something – to say anything to get Jay to stop looking at him like this, but then Jay steps forward, cups Carlos’ cheeks, and presses his lips to his.

Carlos doesn’t do anything; he stands there, shell-shocked, with Jay’s warm hands on his cheeks and his lips on his. There’s a shock spiraling up his spine and a flash of heating curling in his belly, because _Jay likes me, he likes me, he likes me back_ – it’s brilliant and wonderful and he hasn’t ever felt like this before.

But then Jay’s grip loosens on him as the other boy stumbles backwards, hands falling to his side. Jay has gone completely ashen, and he’s never looked more terrified than he does right now. “Shit. _Shit_. I’m so sorry, Carlos. I thought. _Sh_ –“

Now it’s Carlos’ turns to step forward, to curl his hand around the back of Jay’s neck, to bring him down a few inches, and to press his lips against Jay’s. It’s clumsier than Jay’s kiss was; the other boy probably had much more practice than Carlos ever had or ever would, but it is magnificent – because he’s _kissing_ Jay. He’s kissing Jay, lips pressed against lips, Carlos’ hand curling over Jay’s hip; he’s kissing Jay, the boy that he’s dreamed of kissing since he was eight years old. He’s kissing Jay, the boy he’s been in love with before he even knew what love was, and it feels _marvelous_.

Jay seems to come to his senses then, because he’s pressing his body up against Carlos’, one hand moving to the small of Carlos’ back and the other brushing up across the space behind Carlos’ ear, sending another flash of heat through his middle.

It’s then Jay teases Carlos’ mouth open with his tongue, and Carlos feels like he’s _drowning_. He feels like he can’t breathe as teeth clank against teeth, awkward and perfect and chilling all at once. Jay’s hands move from their respective positions on Carlos’ neck and back to the back of his thighs, lifting Carlos up; Carlos’ breath hitches as Jay does this, briefly interrupting their kiss, and Jay lets out the huff of a laugh in return before sealing their lips together again.

They tumble onto the bed – whose, Carlos doesn’t know, and it’s a mess of limbs and torsos, but their lips never leave one another. Hips collide with hips, matching in the most perfect way possible, and Carlos curls his hand around Jay’s neck, digging his fingers into the other boy’s hair.

It’s tremendous and astonishing and fantastic all at once, but it is heating up rather quickly, so Carlos tugs Jay’s hair back gently, separating their lips.

Jay responds instantly, pulling backwards. His chest is heaving and his cheeks are sweaty and red, but he looks thoroughly happy, and Carlos assumes he looks the same. Jay dips his head down, pressing his forehead to Carlos’, their breaths intermingling. Surprisingly, Jay’s breath doesn’t smell bad; Carlos had always assumed that during a kiss, there was bound to be some sort of stinky breath involved.

Jay licks his lips and Carlos watches the movement sharply, feeling his stomach clench at the motion. The other boy grins at him. “So,” Jay drawls, “Shall we continue?”

He leans down with the full intent of capturing Carlos’ lips again, but Carlos stops him by pressing a hand against his chest. “I–“ he feels heat flush across his cheeks. “I’ve never – I’ve never done this before,” Carlos hurries, meeting Jay’s gaze. “Not a relationship, not kissing, and not – not sex.” He feels himself blush harder at that, and curses inwardly.

Instead of speaking, Jay leans down again. The other boy presses his lips against Carlos’ nose, then each of his cheeks, his forehead, and finally, back to Carlos’ lips with a gentle kiss; Jay’s lips linger against his for a moment before he pulls away, giving Carlos an assuring smile. “That’s alright,” Jay whispers, and rolls off of Carlos. They lay beside each other, palms pressed together and fingers curled against each other’s skin.

And Carlos is – he’s _happy_. For the first time in his life, he is truly happy.

After that, everything changes. They don’t bother to keep their relationship a secret; it turns out that on Auradon, love is seen as love, no matter who it is between. He thinks, that here, he could be happy forever with Jay at his side.

He feels _free_ , and it’s absolutely _wonderful_.

**Author's Note:**

> I have tried to write smut, and I never will again. Nope. Can't do it.
> 
> I got the idea for Captain Hook's daughter here: http://descendants-trash.tumblr.com/post/125715131157/things-i-need-in-the-descendants-sequel.


End file.
